


sund[A]y without god

by badend (cogito)



Category: Elsword (Video Game)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, dreadlord is in here fsr, inspired by Silencer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:53:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cogito/pseuds/badend
Summary: Erbluhen Emotion disappears, and Arme Thaumaturgy sets out to find him.
Relationships: Ain/Ain (Elsword)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	sund[A]y without god

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dezimaton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezimaton/gifts).



When Arme Thaumaturgy wakes one morning, the house doesn’t smell like breakfast.

Instead, he finds the kitchen empty. If Erbluhen wanted to go out this early, he could have reminded Arme last night that he was going out instead of leaving without a single damn word, he thought.

How rude of him.

So Arme makes himself some coffee as best as he can. It doesn’t have its usual flavour, though, and Erbluhen's presence is... missed, to say the least.

In displeasure at having to do his own damn things in the morning when he was barely awake, to begin with, Arme disappointedly clicks his tone and looks out at the entrance where Erbluhen’s slippers are shelved.

Did Arme piss him off somehow? And if he had, if Erbluhen wasn't even around, how was Arme supposed to apologize? Could he have been _trying_ to disappear without a trace? But Erbluhen was a responsible adult, and he knew when was enough. Arme's fingers curl around the handle of the coffee mug. Erbluhen would come home at the end of the day when he had enough of his tantrum.

Surely.

The house falls all too silent without the sound of Erbluhen's bustle. Housekeeping or chores or whatnot, he cleaned with such gusto the energy of the house followed with him, when Erbluhen cleaned, Arme had the habit of rolling his eyes and moving on to do his own thing. It’s only now that without Erbluhen, that he realizes how lonely things are. 

_You’d better come home soon,_ Arme thinks to himself, and locks the door behind him as he leaves.

Erbluhen did not come home that night.

The scent of coffee that lingers through the air as usual, but it’s his coffee instead of Erbluhen’s. He throws some stuff into a pot and makes some sort of soup, and doesn't recall the taste of the flavourless mixture. 

The next morning, Arme awakens to the sound of birds chirping in his window. He lies in bed for a few minutes longer and waits for the banging of pots and bangs from downstairs to come out.

No sound comes from downstairs, no pots, no pans, no beautiful singing voice beckoning him down for breakfast.

Arme feels guilt eating at him in his stomach but there’s no reason why he should feel as guilty as he does at this moment. If Erbluhen came home now, what was he supposed to apologize for, anyway? 

Arme knows there’s only one place that Erbluhen could possibly be. Maybe he’s hiding out there until he could calm down or was waiting for Arme to chase him down and reconcile. Arme would rather die than to set foot in there, but if it’s for Erbluhen, he’ll swallow his pride.

The void breathes and hums with his pulse. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. It squeezes around him as if it was made of flesh, even though there’s not supposed to be anything here at all.

“Apostasia!” Arme yells, “I know you’re here, come out!”

A moment of silence passes, and Apostasia peels himself out of the void. First, his head surfaces through a portal in the void, and it looks like his head is simply sticking out of the wall. He takes a cursory glance around, and then the rest of him appears. He takes his time, making sure each movement is painfully slow and deliberate, as if moving a glacier.

All his corrupted glory hovers above the ground on full display. Arme narrows his eyes and glares forward, meeting his eyes without recoiling.

"Arme Thaumaturgy,” He says in that deep, disturbing voice.

“Apostasia, where is Erbluhen Emotion?”

Apostasia tilts his head in confusion, “Erbluhen…”

“You know who that is, don’t you? He’s the only person in this damn world that would come visit you in your Ishmael-forsaken void.”

For a moment, Apostasia makes a face like the understand the question, and then slowly he begins to shake his head, “I don’t know what that is… I’ve never heard the name before.” He deliberates on his thoughts, pausing when he speaks.

“Of course you do. No one comes here but Erbluhen.” He takes a step forwards and yanks Apostasia by his collar, staring fearlessly into his void-infested eyes. “Apostasia, where is. Erbluhen Emotion?”

“I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Then, all this time, who has been coming to meet you in the void?”

Apostasia, very slowly, blinks.

The weapons appearing behind Arme line up and blot out all the eyes of the void. The brightness of Arme’s projections forces them to keep their eyes shut. Arme sheds his human shell, and the brightness of Ishmael’s light sends everything in the void reeling, Apostasia included.

He rubs his eyes furiously, and then reaches up for the light as if he had seen it before.

“It’s different…” Apostasia mumbles softly to himself, “Somehow.”

“Apostasia,” Arme reminds him. He’s still waiting for an answer.

After a long pause, Apostasia speaks again. “The one that has been coming here all this time to the void,” Apostasia stops speaking, and then his eyes widen as his entire expression opens up. “It, it isn’t you?”

Apostasia says this with such confusion that Arme isn’t sure if it is even a question. The confusion and the pure, raw puzzlement on Apostasia’s face convince Arme that it can’t be a lie. Right?

“It’s Erbluhen, you’re thinking of Erbluhen, aren’t you?” Arme asks and tries again, and Apostasia winces like Arme might as well have punched him in the gut so hard it reactivated his pain sensors.

Without giving Arme any kind of answer to that question, Apostasia withdraws into himself. His face slowly melts back into the dead, blank expression he now knows and is most comfortable with. Silently, he shrinks out of Arme’s grasp like jelly. With himself freed, he tunnels into the darkness without another word.

“Apostasia,” Arme yells after him, “Damn it, Apostasia! Answer the damn question!”

The void is silent, Arme slips out of spiritualism form. He watches the spots where Apostasia disappeared with an intense glare, but Apostasia makes no effort to indicate that he’s coming back. The void is beginning to pulse with his breaths again, and he feels it beating in tune with his heartbeat. Arme decides that he’s had enough of this and very quickly leaves this place that sends chills down his spine, leaving with Ishmael's light behind him.

Erbluhen’s favourite Elsword was always the rambunctious Rune Slayer. It shouldn’t have been so surprising that Erbluhen favoured the loud one so much in comparison to the others. The three of the Elswords and the three Ains were so alike in that way, after all. 

The emotional overflow from Rune Slayer was so obvious it didn’t surprise Arme at all when Rune waved at him to beckon him over to the tea-table. He and Erbluhen had the same energy. It was bittersweet.

Through Lord Knight he had managed to track Rune Slayer down, and the two had agreed to meet up at a cafe for lunch.

“I gotta admit, I’m pretty surprised Ain would invite me out for tea. Of all the people in the world, you seem like the least likely.” Rune Slayer cut his cake into tiny pieces, shoving them into his mouth one at a time.

Arme asks plainly. “Do you remember Erbluhen Emotion?”

With a mouthful of cake, Rune shakes his head. Arme knit his fingers together.

“There hasn’t been an Ain who cared for you all this time?”

“I mean we could argue you care about me?” He laughs, “Or rather, I mean, you care about Lord Knight, so I guess you care about me as an extension of caring about him.”

“No matter. You don’t know any other Ains but me?”

Rune nods, “Lord Knight talks about you so much I wonder if he has a crush on you or something.” Dismissively, Rune waves his hand. “I’m sure it makes Blade jealous to have another big brother.”

“Hm,” Arme makes a noise, and while waiting for Arme to speak again Rune cuts in first.

“Who or what is an Erbluhen Emotion?”

Ah.

Arme thinks about it for a second. “He’s what to me as Lord Knight is to you.”

A pause. “Your alternate?”

“Yes. He was— is, my alternate.” With those closing words, Arme asks for the bill.

Rune pouts. “Well, I hope you find him soon, you look pretty beat up about him.”

Not realizing that he had never once mentioned Erbluhen Emotion was missing, Arme replies, “Thank you, I hope so too.”

Before they go their separate ways, Rune says with a small shrug, “You’re not as bad as a guy as I thought you’d be. With the way Lord Knight described you, I thought you’d be a draconian overlord.”

The meeting with Infinity Sword goes about the same way. Both Rune Slayer and Infinity Sword confer on the point that Arme Thaumaturgy was the only Ain they had ever met, then agreed that Ain was nicer than both had thought he would be.

But what they were saying made his heart fall, like he was falling infinitely into a deep void. Sure, he was peeved at how they kept calling him nice, but the way they asked who Erbluhen was, as if he had never existed. The thought that Erbluhen had just disappeared, and was gone as if he had vanished into thin air seemed more and more likely.

Balling his hands into fists, Arme determinedly shakes off the thoughts as best he could. Maybe he would go home and figure out what else he could piece together, and try to figure out where Erbluhen could be now. As it was now, he had no other leads.

It smells like flowers inside the empty halls of their home, and Arme recognizes the vase sitting in the window sill as the ones Erbluhen brought home before his departure. They had been nearly dead flowers, withering in their vase, but the moment he started talking to them colour had spread from inside like ripples in water, and they were in full bloom again.

The scent of morning coffee had long faded out and the coffee pot was sitting empty on the counter. Twilight shines through the window and into the hallway, making Arme think of the way Erbluhen would linger in the window trying to call his attention to something or to tell a silly joke.

Just a few days ago, Arme would have come home to Erbluhen, whose eyes would crinkle and his lips would pull into a smile whenever Arme called his name to get his attention. Now, he was nowhere to be seen. How someone could leave everything he owned and just up and disappear like that?

That was impossible, right?

Though the two of them slept in different beds, and it really was just Erbluhen who actually slept through the nights.

For the first time in his life, Arme Thaumaturgy sleeps, and he dreams.

Though by morning he has forgotten the contents of that dream, but he thinks he dreamt of Erbluhen.

Ishmael sends him a message.

It simply says: “Please scout out the dimensional crack in Henir’s Space and Time.”

Having received orders, Arme gives the house a quick look over before locking up. After that, he descends it into the void. He marches past the twirling, humming blue orbs and straight into the deeper part where he knows Apostasia is hiding.

Though Apostasia’s movements are slow and reluctant, he eventually emerges from his safe space and meets Arme Thaumaturgy. This time, he stands on the ground, staring directly ahead with his blank eyes. “You’re here about Erbluhen Emotion.”

“If you know that I’m here for him, you’d best tell me what you know immediately.” Arme yanks Apostasia forwards by the collar of his shirt, staring into his face with such a serious intensity that sends shivers down even Apostasia’s spine. “If you’re hiding him for yourself, I’ll smash this void and you with it.”

He knows Arme isn’t capable of it. The weapons he projects are for show, but it’s the determination in his voice that makes emotions snap back into Apostasia’s face after so long of being part of the emotionless void. Apostasia begins, very quietly, “Erbluhen Emotion isn’t here. He isn’t here anymore.”

“He was here?”

“In this world, in this timeline, once. But no more.”

Arme shakes him, and Apostasia makes no effort to stop him.

“He used to be here. With us, but now he’s gone.”

“What do you mean, he’s gone?”

“Gone, erased.” Apostasia begins to worm his way out of Arme’s grasp, “You and I remember him because… you know, we’re the same being, but different.” He shakes his head again, “His disappearance is our disappearance, in its own way.”

Arme’s brows furrow, “Speak in a way I understand.”

“We are the last remaining evidence he ever existed because we are his alternates.”

“What kind of bullshit is this? Where is he?”

In a small voice, Apostasia mumbles, “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Apostasia insists again, and when Arme doesn’t look like he believes him, his attempts to free himself become more obvious and violent.

He breaks out of his shell into his corrupted spiritualism and slams the hilt of his scythe into Arme’s stomach. It’s enough to throw Arme back to allow Apostasia to disappear into his safe space again, and the void falls silent around him.

Arme punches the wall beside him. It buckles like jelly and then bounces back into place.

“Oi, Angel.”

“Not now, piss off.” Arme Thaumaturgy says without turning around. The moment he wiggles his finger, a glowing sword appears as if connected to his hand by puppet string.

Dreadlord looks up at the sword, and then back at Arme. “How scary!” He taunts, and Arme fires the weapon without warning, Dreadlord deflects it and sends it flying back where it came from, the metal against celestial metal a rattling off with a sharp clang. Dreadlord's blade is smouldering in the aftermath. 

“I told you, piss off.” Arme raises his hand to summon another bundle of swords, but Dreadlord grabs his wrist before he can fire any of them.

“Come on, angel. What’s the harm in talking for a bit? Maybe I can help you relieve a bit of stress?” He smirks.

Arme yanks his arm back and Dreadlord for some reason relents it, “I’m not going to talk to demon scum like you.”

Dreadlord whistles, “That’s a no, huh?” He wiggles his fingers a bit to get some blood back into them to get the circulation going again. “What did I do to get you so mad at me?”

_“Exist.”_

How could Dreadlord continue to exist when Erbluhen was allegedly gone? The world was just too unfair.

“Sorry, I can’t just make myself disappear.”

 _I could,_ Arme thinks to himself, almost preparing to raise another bundle of projections.

Instead of sitting here wasting energy bantering or fighting with Dreadlord, he could have been doing something much more productive. He still had to report to Ishmael. He turns on his heels and begins to walk home, Dreadlord makes no effort to stop him.

“I’m leaving.” Arme announces.

“Alright. See you.” Dreadlord replies, casually as always. His eyes stare deeply into Arme's back, and the heavy gaze- what did Dreadlord want with him if they were simply going to have a meaningless conversation?

There was something in Arme’s eyes today that was not there all the other times they met. Arme could maul and maim him at will today. With one strike, he could decimate Dreadlord to smithereens. That projection ability him was a hassle when Dreadlord didn’t have the upper hand. With all those weapons, he had so quickly strung behind him, he would surely not have had the time to deflect them all.

But even an idiot could see that Arme’s nerves were strung as tightly as a tripwire. It was best to bail out before he triggered the alarm.

“You knew he would have killed you so why did you…” A small girl’s voice rose quietly from Dreadlord’s side. He didn’t turn his head around, but he heard Dreadlord gently shushes her.

“Because he looked a bit lonely, you know? Despite everything he puts into that front of his.” Dreadlord responds as nonchalantly as always, “It’s as if he lost someone or something very important and he’s trying to hide it.”

Dreadlord’s strangely on-point reply was an arrow that pierced his chest. Arme continued to walk and did not turn back.

Once upon a time, Erbluhen had cracked a bad joke. He mentioned that if he had to die, or if someone had to kill him, then he wanted Arme to be the one to do it. “With your loving hands, you’ll put me out of my misery.”

Arme scoffed at him then, “Don’t let your suicide idealizations get in the way of your mission.”

“Yessir.”

Erbluhen returned to his flowers, and Arme returned to sketching out a battle plan.

The cacophonous screaming of demons rings out from all around him, a rising chorus that wouldn’t have sounded out of place at an elaborate opera.

When demons died, their bodies disintegrated and turned to smithereens. Their souls vanished before his eyes, and where they went, well, Arme could only suspect that they went directly to their place of origin- to hell. 

Demons died and went to hell, and humans died and went to heaven or hell depending on their actions, so angels must have returned to heaven. But then again, Erbluhen didn’t die, and none of the Ains would have considered themselves as much a herald as angels were described to be.

He drives a spear into a demon’s stomach like a skewer, and in a spray of gore, it disappears. With the last attack, the rest of the demons begin to flee into the demon portal. Those that were left stranded were easily taken out by the rest of the Elgang.

Though, with the last attack, a foreign power mixed into his veins. It didn’t feel bad and it didn’t hurt, but something deep inside him had changed and Arme wondered, briefly, if it could have been Erbluhen influencing him.

“Ain, Ain!” Lord Knight smacks Arme on the back. “Good job!”

Arme turns around with a glare, and the stormy look on his face is enough to make Lord Knight draw a few steps back in fear. Shaking his head upon realizing what he’s done, Arme’s expressions soften again, and Lord Knight’s expression mirrors his, into a natural smile.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Have you found him yet?”

Arme shakes his head.

“Oh… I hope he comes back soon, for making you worry like that.”

“Well,” Arme inhales, a bit embarrassed for making Lord Knight upset earlier, “Thank you.”

Seeing the way Grandmaster’s face turn sour with displeasure, Arme realizes that his place is not here. He might as well go home and wait for other developments.

It is absolutely disgusting to think that he’s getting used to an empty house. He couldn’t remember a time where Erbluhen’s presence did not somehow linger in every hallway and on every tangible thing in the house.

After he falls into his bed, he falls asleep.

That night he dreams of the goddess he hasn’t seen in so long.

His goddess in all her radiant glory stands before him in a giant statue in a glistening hall of marble. She does not show her true form to him, and he knows it’s because he isn’t worthy. This form is enough for a mere creation such as himself.

As he draws closer to the form, the demand is simple. He bows and goes to one knee. Ishmael addresses him as Ain in their strange, celestial language.

“Your mission,” She says, “You’ve detoured from your mission and the purpose for which you were created.”

Arme clicks his tongue, “Yes, but I-”

“Hold your tongue. I did not give your permission to speak.” Arme feels her light shift slightly, “Do you feel that you have you wavered from your original purpose?”

"Yes,” Arme stutters, hating the lack of resolution in his voice.

“And for what reason have you wavered?” She asks again, “It could hardly be a demon.”

You should know, Arme thinks mentally. The goddess giveth and she taketh away. Surely, she knew of Erbluhen’s disappearance. In fact, she surely had a hand in it. “I am, searching for something,“ Arme answers politely, “Something was taken from me.”

"Something was taken from you?”

“Yes,” Arme does not waver, “Someone very important to me.”

“What was taken from you? I will restore it to you immediately.”

“Erbluhen Emotion.”

Ishmael’s light flickers in silence. He can almost feel her trying to process Erbluhen Emotion’s existence. But, when she created him in the first place, why did she try to pretend she didn’t understand? She must have known. If she didn’t, who else did?

“He was one of my alternates, along with the one in the void.”

“There is no Ainchase Ishmael in the space of Henir. You are the only Ain I have created.”

Arme grit his teeth. Why did she ask him to check out the void if not to validate Apostasia’s existence? However, as he opens his mouth to complain, he feels her unwavering resolution. Unstoppable force, immovable object.

"Ain,” her very word shakes him to the core, “Do not continue to search for this Erbluhen Emotion when he does not exist. Do not search for alternates when you are the only Ain in existence.”

Seeing him in silence, Ishmael continues, “Return to your mission.”

With that, she ejects him from the dream.

Arme nearly falls out bed the next morning. His eyes snap open wide. His ceiling hangs above him, slowly turning red with the sun’s rising rays. The sun peeks over the horizon of the town lined with brick houses.

Morning already and he has barely rested. The talk with Ishmael barely counts as a conversation, let alone a rest as sleep was supposed to give him.

How many days has it been since he woke up to the sound of the ventilation? How many more since he had heard Erbluhen’s unmatchable laughter?

“I miss you,” Arme mumbles into his pillow.

Downstairs, the dishes that he forgot to do last night sat in the sink, staring at him miserably. He’s reminded of his own chastising. Whenever Erbluhen forgot something, Arme would remind him. Then, Erbluhen would do it. It was the same for the dishes as it was for the plants that needed to be watered, the floors that needed to be mopped and swept, and the garbage that needed to be taken out along with ten other duties that were evenly split between them. Erbluhen never complained as he did them, singing and moving like a music piece.

“I'll do the dishes,” Arme says to himself, rising off the clean dishes, “And I’ll water the flowers, and I’ll dust everything, and I’ll stop telling to do things, so just…” He trails off, staring at his own reflection in the plate, “So just come home already.”

It hurt to admit how vulnerable he felt at this moment. He had been alone before he met Erbluhen, so why did it hurt so much now? He thinks back to all the times he rejected Erbluhen’s friendship and invitations, and he wishes he was at least a bit nicer to Erbluhen when he was still here. How was he supposed to know that one day, ERbluhen would just goddamn up and vanish into thin air?

He sits down on a nearby couch to take a rest. Something digs into his skin.

Naturally. He rummages around the cushions and finds a single piece of paper. It’s a receipt for a cake dated to the day before Erbluhen’s disappearance. A tiny “E” was signed at the bottom of the note.

"On June 21, meet me at the cafe in Elder at 4. I’ll wait for you in the usual place. - E”

June 21st was today.

Arme rolls off the couch. The time on the wall clock said it was only 1, so he had plenty of time to be early. Although uncharacteristic of him, Arme chose something other than his usual all-white outfit. He rehearsed his apology a few times in front of the mirror, and then set off.

The usual place was a booth in a tiny ‘café’ off the main streets of Elder that Erbluhen had pointed out when they were still exploring as Anpassen and Executor who knows how long ago. In honesty, it was a restaurant, but Erbluhen insisted it was the cutest café he had ever seen, so they rolled with it.

Upon his entry, the doorbell jingles.

“Table for?”

“Two,” Arme replies, barely able to keep his nerves in place, “Get me the booth in the back by the window.

”Table for two, what name should I put down?”

“A-r-m-e. Arme.”

“I understand, please follow me.”

Perhaps it was fate, but his and Erbluen’s usual seat was empty, so Arme orders his usual coffee and waited. By the time he had changed and mulled outside, time got away from him. It was approaching four, and he was tightly clutching the receipt as if it would make Erbluhen show up earlier. It was his writing, he even signed it!

First, he would apologize, and then he would ask Erbluhen why it took so long for him to come home. Then he would agree to do anything if it got Erbluhen home, if Erbluhen forgave him, nothing else mattered.

At four, no one came. Maybe he was just late, Erbluhen wasn’t often late, but it wasn’t out of the question for him to get caught up on something on the way here.

At five, Erbluhen did not show up, and Arme was getting worried. Where could he be if he was an hour late? Did he forget? Or did Arme piss him off so bad he didn’t want to show up at all?

But Arme continues to wait.

At six, the sun began to set on the horizon. The light of the sun bathed the booth in a warm, romantic light. The one sitting before him, with his hands knit together under his chin in amusement was unmistakable. The light caught his eyes and brought out the green in them. He leans forward with a smile.

“Erbluhen-“Arme wrings his hands underneath the table. “I wanted to apologize, for everything you’ve ever done for me but I took for granted. If it wasn’t for you, I might still be Executor after all this time, so… I wanted to say thank you for finding me that day.”

Erbluhen does not speak, but he continues to smile. It’s not his usual smile, but it’s just as enigmatic. Arme doesn’t know if he has accepted the apology, but it does feel better to get it off his chest like that.

The two of them sit in their usual café in the middle but off the main road of Elder, watching the sunset behind rows and rows of brick and cobblestone streets.

“Sir, sir-“

Arme blinks himself awake and with his voice tinged heavily with sleep, he asks for the time.

“It is 9 pm, sir. We’ll be closing in half an hour.”

Arme pinches the bridge of his nose. When did he fall asleep?

“Your guest never showed up, sir, my sincerest apologies. I would have woken you if they asked for your name.”

Arme stared at his expression reflected in the café window. The clueless look doesn’t suit him, he smiles wryly, and the expression changes with it. “So be it, thank you for coming to fetch me, I’ll be on my way. Please give me the bill.”

Streetlights swarmed by moths illuminate Elder’s night paths. The moths gather around the bulbs as if they were an open flame. Arme looks up and watches a particularly big moth extinguishes its own life.

“Erbluhen, “He chants under his breath like a mantra, “I want to see you. I want to see you. I have to see you…”

He reaches into his pocket and finds another note, “Take the secret path in Velder. -E”

“Have you seen Ain?” Lord Knight’s head bobs up in the space between the trees, “We could really use that projection power of his with the demon camps here.”

“Nope, he said he was doing recon, didn’t he?” Elemental Master shakes her head, “But he’s around, isn’t her?”

“Will we be able to do this by ourselves?”

Blademaster cut in quietly. “No need, there he is.” 

In front of them, back where the demon camps were, a hailstorm of blue spears had materialized above the camp cabins. At the count of three, all of them descended at the same time into the wooden structure. The shoddily constructed cabins all collapsed in on themselves at the same time. The ones that weren’t taken care of immediately wail and screamed in despair after a direct engagement with Ain himself.

Once the rest of the demons had been taken care of, Arme finally showed up from his hiding place.

“Ain!” Lord Knight ran up to meet him and held out his hand for a high five.

“All done with recon?”

Arme blinks.

“You should rejoin us formally again since you’re here already. I’m sure we’ll be more powerful with you in the party again.”

Arme had never promised anything of the sort, had he?

“I’ll think about it. Which way to Henir?”

“Uh, that way.”

The moment Lord Knight points to the clearing in the forest, Arme disappears.

“That guy—“ Elemental puffs her cheeks out. “He’s already so infuriating. He does what he wants and when he wants it, and if we’re not Elsword, he doesn’t care for us at all.”

Lord Knight laughs and watched Arme walk off. “Him and the other Ain are like that.”

“The other Ain?”

“Huh? Did I say something weird?”

The void always feels the same every time he comes. It’s just now that he’s beginning to understand what Erbluhen meant when he emphatically insisted that the void felt lonely even though it was deep and creepy as much as it was peaceful. The old Arme wouldn’t have thought so. Something had changed inside him between then and now

“Apostasia,” Arme readies his weapon, but it was only a formality. Should Apostasia want his head, then it would be ready for the taking.

The third Ain turns around to face him. His legs are drawn to his chest, and he peers up at Arme with an empty look in his eyes.

Arme says, “You have something for me.”

“Erbluhen had a memory for you that he wanted me to hold on to if you were to come through the back.”

“Why did you hold on to it?”

“Erbluhen knew that if he wanted to leave it behind his only chance was the void. So I held on to it because he knew you’d come for it. I did my best. It was… important for him that I didn’t let the void eat it.” But he had, in their previous meetings, Apostasia had not recalled Erbluhen's presence, let alone his gift.

The scene in the void changed. Apostasia was gone. Erbluhen was sitting across from him in the cafe, in their usual booth. On the table were a cup of black coffee and a cup of green tea.

“I’m going to disappear soon,” Erbluhen said quietly, “And you’ll forget I told you.”

“That makes no sense, people don’t just disappear,” answered the Arme of the past.

“You forget that we’re not typical humans. I think, when we die, we just stop existing and no one remembers we ever existed.”

“Why the hell would you just disappear?” Arme grumbled.

An always patient Erbluhen simply replied, “The human emotions that sustain me aren’t strong enough to fight the goddess’ powers, one of us must disappear to maintain the balance in the world. The goddess told me so.”

“Then, I-“

“Don’t. The world needs you more than it needs me.” Erbluhen reached across to place his hand on Arme’s reassuringly, but Arme didn’t feel reassured then, and he sure as hell didn’t feel reassured watching this forgotten memory.

After a minute, Erbluhen laughed, though the laugh was unmistakably hollow. Then again, was it ever supposed to be a real laugh? “Sorry, it was a bad joke, don’t worry about it.”

Frowning disapprovingly, Arme opened his mouth to question what Erbluhen was talking about, but Erbluhen already turned his head away.

Under his breath, when Arme has calmed down, Erbluhen mumbles, “I can’t leave you alone, can I?”

The scene changed again.

They were watching the ducks on the river.

The smell of the lake, the sound of Erbluhen’s laugh, the peaceful look on Erbluhen’s face as he slowly fell asleep, how the grass felt underneath him, and everything just felt right. Even if it was just for a moment, Arme could relax.

Even though he was supposed to be asleep, Erbluhen scooted closer to him and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Arme.”

“Erbluhen, I-“

That was it, he was back in the void.

As Arme refamiliarizes himself with the darkness of the void, Apostasia slowly comes back into view. Neither of them volunteers to say anything, and then slowly, Arme whispers, “He’s really gone, isn’t he?”

His chest swells with pain, and he feels pain more acutely than he has ever had before.

“He’s really gone,” Apostasia confirms.

Apostasia had started crying, tears silently roll down his cheeks. Arme touched his own eyes, and big wet globs stained his gloves. Why shouldn’t Apostasia cry too? Erbluhen spent a decent amount of time in the void, accompanying Apostasia. The memories Apostasia had were just as valid as the ones Arme had.

For a while, the two of them simply sat next to each other and cried in silence. Finally, Apostasia breaks the silence with a question. “Are you going home now? What will you do without him?”

With tears in his eyes, Apostasia looks like Wanderer again. “I’ll think about it. I’ll come see you again.”

Apostasia nods, “See you.”

On his way back, Arme stopped by the café and asked for his usual.

Once upon a time he passed through these streets with Erbluhen hand in hand. On many occasions, a slight breeze blew through Elder and even now Arme remembered the way Erbluhen’s hair tossed in the wind.

Tomorrow, he would try to map out some sort of future. Where would he go now? Would he do as Apostasia had asked, go back to his mission? He touched his chest where his heart was now beating like Erbluhen’s was. Despite the overwhelming amount of sadness that made his heart want to collapse, Arme Thaumaturgy didn’t feel sad.

He felt hopeful.

That night, he dreams of Erbluhen Emotion again.

After walking along a flower path up a flight of stairs, Arme finds Erbluhen sitting underneath the cherry blossom tree. He’s leaning against the trunk with his eyes closed, feeling the soft breeze. “I found you.” Arme Thaumaturgy calls out.

In the background, the sun threatens to disappear behind the horizon. The time of twilight is about to end. The wind tosses the flowers about and rustles the blossoms still in the trees. They toss and turn, and the ones that decide to fall, fall in a circle around the man at its base.

“Yes,” Erbluhen laughs softly, in a way that makes Arme’s heartstrings quiver, “You found me."

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from Tumblr with minor edits.  
> [tumblr mirror.](https://bad-end.tumblr.com/post/160392249978/sunday-without-god-eeath)  
> Originally posted May 6th, 2017.
> 
> Please look at dez's [wonderful artwork which was posted for the fic here](https://dezimaton.tumblr.com/day/2017/05/21/).


End file.
